Sightless Eyes
by Moonlit Seductress
Summary: I'm baaaaaaack - with 2 new chapters for this story, and 3 brand new stories. Here's chapter 2, and 3, which is the end!
1. Chapter 1

Sightless Eyes  
  
"Well?" demanded the doctor, staring intently at Hawkeye, who slowly pulled his hand away from his eyes and stared at it. The crowd watching took a collective breath as the blue orbs in question clouded with horror. "Nothing," Hawkeye said, his voice shaking. "I can't see my hand. It's in front of my face, right?" The eye doctor nodded slowly. "Yes, it is. Can you see any colours?" Hawkeye scrunched up his face. "White. It's like looking at a field of untrodden snow. And it's horrible."  
  
The doctor stood up, grabbing his bag and re - taping the bandages around the other man's eyes. "Ok, I'll be back in a week." He shook Potter's hand, then walked out.  
  
Potter, as well as the rest of the group clustered around the bed, turned to Hawkeye. He was visibly shaking, his hands trembling. He bit his lower lip until blood started to drip from it. "Jeez Hawk, be careful," BJ admonished, placing some gauze in Hawkeye's hand. He recoiled. "Please don't touch me right now," he pleaded, curling into a ball on the cot, back to the crowd.  
  
Potter shooed the others away, motioning for BJ and Margaret to follow him. They hurried to a far corner of the ward.  
  
"Colonel, what are we going to do?" Margaret demanded. "Our best surgeon can't even do the thing he's best at. We've got to do something." Potter nodded. "First thing we've got to do his put him under 24 hour surveillance. One of us has always gotta be with him. Boys who are blind can grow very suicidal very quickly - and if they know the room they're in, they can get around very well."  
  
Both nodded. "I'll take first shift," BJ volunteered, checking his watch. "It's 0900 now, Margaret, come relieve me at 1500 hours, ok?"  
  
"Right," Margaret replied, following the Colonel out of the room. "And both of you pray for no wounded," he called after them. "Don't worry, BJ, I'm doing that already," Father Mulcahy assured him, walking into the room.  
  
At 1800 hours, Margaret was on "watch dog duty", as they had dubbed it. Hawkeye rolled over, his hand brushing her leg. She grinned as he felt her leg, trailing down to the knee and then back up. "Must be Major Houlihan," he concluded, a smirk on his face. "Bring that hand up one more inch and I'll make sure you're permanently blind," she threatened, not thinking as the words flew out of her mouth. "Oh God, Hawkeye, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking," she said, brushing his hair back, worried at how quickly his expressions changed. "It's ok," he replied sourly.  
  
A little while later, Hawkeye had fallen back asleep, and Margaret was talking with Kellye just outside of Post - Op. Hawkeye woke with a start, reaching his hand out to where Margaret - or someone - should have been. His stretching hand met the empty chair, and panic began to swell. "Margaret?" he called softly. "Anybody?" No reply. He sat straight up. "Margaret!"  
  
Hearing his cry, Margaret thrust her clipboard at a surprised Kellye, and burst though the doors, spotting Hawkeye sitting bolt upright in his cot. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped at the touch. "Hey, it's me, relax," she soothed, smoothing back his tousled hair. He grabbed her hand. "Where were you?" he demanded. "Talking to Kellye, just outside," she replied, voice slightly strained, as he gripped her hand tightly. "Don't leave me like that," he begged, sounding so childlike and vulnerable. "Do you know what it's like to know that you can't see - and no one is there to guide you? Do you know how awful that is?"  
  
"Hawkeye, calm down!" Margaret pleaded, frightened at his tone, so uncertain. Not a lot of things scared Hawkeye Pierce, but when he did get scared, he almost reverted back to a child. "I'm not going anywhere again, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," she reassured him, stroking his hair gently. Soon, his breathing slowed, becoming regular, and she knew he was asleep. She tried to dislodge her hand, but he tightened his grip.  
  
At that moment, Frank scuttled into Post - Op, grumbling about something - the late hours, Margaret assumed. He threw a scathing glance - or as close to a scathing glance as he could come to - in Hawkeye's general direction, then stopped and whirled around. "Margaret?" he whispered. Margaret winced. His voice was so nasal when he whispered. She sighed. "What, Frank?"  
  
He began to whine. "Margaret, I though we had a date tonight. And then I come in here to find you with - " He paused to sneer half heartedly at Hawkeye. " - him?" Margaret rolled her eyes. "I don't have a choice, Frank, Colonel Potter put me on watch dog duty. I'll be off at 2300 hours. It's 9:48 now, I'm sure you can wait." She was beginning to wonder why she ever got involved with that whining weasel. "But why does anyone have to watch him?" Frank demanded. "It's not like he's gonna go wandering off - he's blind!" He giggled gleefully at his "joke".  
  
"Frank, the Colonel thinks he might become suicidal." Frank paused. "What?" Margaret groaned inwardly. "He might kill himself." She wondered why to think of Hawkeye killing himself tightened her throat, and put a queasy feeling in her stomach. "Oh good," Frank exclaimed. "Then all we need is for Hunnicut to off himself, and all our problems would be over."  
  
Margaret stood up, leaving her one hand in Hawkeye's. "Frank, get out," she ordered. "You're disturbing the patients." As if on cue, Hawkeye, and two other soldiers groaned. Frank raised a curious eyebrow at Margaret's hand firmly clamped in Hawkeye's, turned, and slunk out of the ward. He stopped at the door to look back at the couple. "Hmm," he mused. "So, our little Major is falling for the illustrious Captain Pierce. Time to remove this little charade, and show them how smart Frank Burns really is." He hurried back to the Swamp, plots already forming in his head.  
  
***TBC***  
  
I know, I know, it's your basic H/M plot, where Frank tries to intervene, and he's all intelligent and all - very over used plot, but who cares, in the immortal words of Henry Blake (R.I.P. Henry) "Here's an oldie, but a goodie." Please review! 


	2. Chapter 2

I'm baaaack! Can't keep me down, I once again have access to my account. I  
figured it was about time to put a disclaimer on this, so..  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are property of Fox, not me.  
  
There. Ok! Thanks to all who reviewed - for the sake of this story, Margaret was NOT engaged at the time. Sorry it's so short, but I lost this whole chapter before, and couldn't be bothered to put in the rest. It still ties in with the next chapter, which is longer. The next chapter will be  
the end. Alrighty, enjoy!  
  
Sightless Eyes  
Chapter 2  
  
Margaret sat down at Hawkeye's cot, watching him tilt his head from side to side, obviously listening to something, but Margaret could hear nothing but the gentle patter of rain, and the distant rolls of thunder - or shell fire. She reached out, placing a hand on his wrist. He jumped at the touch. "Hey," she said softly, allowing him to recognize her voice. He smiled. "Margaret, as I live and breathe. To what do I owe this honour?" He was in a peculiar mood - cheerful after a week of depression. Margaret thought this to be a great step, but the Colonel was suspicious, and really nailed people who left Hawkeye alone. "He could be planning something. You turn your back for a split second, you turn back, and he's gone - in more ways than one."  
  
"What were you listening to?" she asked. He grinned. "The rain. You should stop and listen to the rain. It's beautiful." Margaret smiled, encouraging his good mood. "I know, it's so..refreshing. I love it." Hawkeye sat up, leaning his head against his pillows. " The storm will cleanse my soul, and free me from the pain, as angel's tears fall to the earth, in the form of rain," he quoted. Margaret was stunned. All the poetry she had ever heard him utter had been either mocking parodies of existing poems, or filthy limericks and such. "That sounds like poetry," she commented. "It is," he replied lightly. "One of my personal favourites."  
  
"Who wrote it?" He turned to face her, his blue eyes slightly frightening. They were like shuttered windows. "I did," he said, nonchalant. "Come off it. Who really wrote it?" He frowned. "I did. Why is that so hard to believe?" Margaret laughed. "Well really, you don't seem the type to write such..poignant words."  
  
"Poetry helps me deal with the stuff that goes on around here. If I couldn't write, I would go insane." He sighed. "I wish I could write some now." Margaret thought. "Why don't you dictate?" she asked. "I'll write for you." He shook his head. "It's not the same."  
  
"Why don't you type it?" she suggested. "I'll get a typewriter. Kellye!" She motioned for Kellye to keep a close eye on Hawkeye, while she ran to get Radar's typewriter. She returned shortly, placing it on his lap. "I don't know if this will work," Hawkeye groused. "I can't see what I'm typing." Grabbing some tape from her lab coat pocket, she covered the F and J keys. "Can you feel the tape?" she asked, guiding his hands to the keys. "Yeah. F and J, right? Ok, I know my way from there."  
  
Later that day, while BJ was on watch dog duty, Colonel Potter walked into Radar's office, and stood in awe, watching the young man tear apart the office. "Radar, what the heck?" he asked, at the same time that Radar said, "I can't find my typewriter, Colonel."  
  
"Well, don't you leave it on your desk?" "I always leave it on my desk, and now it's gone."  
  
Just then, Margaret walked in. "Corporal, what are you doing?" she asked. "Looking for my typewriter, ma'am." Margaret beamed. "Oh, I know where it is." Both Radar and Potter turned to look at her. "You do?" they asked in unison. "I borrowed it." Potter frowned. "I think Radar needs it more than you, Major."  
  
"Oh, it's not for me Colonel. Come here." She dragged the older man through the doors, into Post - Op. BJ sat next to Hawkeye's cot, the occupant of which was busily typing away, looking much happier than he had been in eons. BJ turned, saw them, and gave the thumbs up. Potter smiled. "I think this person needs it more than you, Radar," he told the young clerk, who stood at his elbow. Radar nodded. "I think so too, sir," he agreed.  
  
Colonel Potter took the next shift, sitting down just as Hawkeye finished typing. "How goes the poems, son?" Potter asked, patting Hawkeye's shoulder so he knew he was there. "I'm finished, but I don't know if I made any mistakes or not. Can you read it to me?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
/Blindness.  
  
I sit, alone in the darkness,  
  
While they who live in the light,  
  
Try to comfort me, help me.  
  
Not knowing how much they take for granted, example, their sight ./  
  
Potter paused, staring at the young man sitting less than a foot away, shrouded in a world of blankness, then continued reading.  
  
/Daytime, I am part of nature,  
  
Part of the things around me.  
  
But when night falls, and the world hushes,  
  
My fears, troubles, ghosts, surround me.  
  
As one door closes, another opens.  
  
That's not the case for me.  
  
My job, my life, the ones I love,  
  
Are all in jeopardy.  
  
People cannot understand,  
  
They try, use all their kindness,  
  
But my body admits what my mind will not:  
  
That I am doomed to the blindness./  
  
(A/N: Sorry for the poem, it's not my best work, please bear with me.)  
  
Potter stared again, considering the author. Hawkeye Pierce, dedicated surgeon, incurable prankster, friend. He wouldn't not accept the fact that there was a strong chance his sight would return. But that was only half the battle. He had never fathomed the amount of sadness, depression, anger, guilt, hopelessness, that the young doctor burrowed inside. But one look at those eyes, blank at first glance. But as you looked closer, you could see the emotions flicker - the despair, the terror.  
  
The older man shook his head, motioning to the nurse. "Get Major Houlihan over here at once," he ordered. "Leaving me, Colonel?" Hawkeye asked. "Yeah, got some paperwork to take care of, but Margaret will be here." Hawkeye yawned loudly. "That's nice," he said, gently lifting the typewriter. "You can have this back for now, but I want it again when I wake up."  
  
As Margaret entered the room, Potter stopped her, handing her the poem. She scanned it quickly, a look of shock registering on her face. "Colonel, what can it mean?" she demanded, turning her gaze to the troubled young doctor, asleep in a cot. Potter's face darkened slightly. "It means that he may be on the verge of giving up hope. And everything else."  
  
***TBC***  
  
Please review! 


	3. Chapter 3

The end! Isn't is sad? Anyways, thanks to all who gave reviews, I love you.  
  
Sightless Eyes  
Chapter 3  
  
Hawkeye was again typing, punching the keys with ferocious speed and amazing agility. His skills didn't seem to be hampered by his lack of sight, and the work he produced was void of any errors. But his abilities weren't what had the 4077th thinking he was going to give up - it was the poems he wrote. The despair and depression presented in them was rather unsettling.  
  
Margaret stuck in a new sheet of paper when he asked, reading the words typed on the papers she removed from the typewriter, the poems striking new fear in her. She had come to care quite a bit for Hawkeye in the two and a half weeks that he had been blind. And when she read the words, she became even more confused.  
  
"Hawk, what language is this?" she asked. "Which one?" he inquired. "The latest one, the one you just took out of the typewriter." It looked to be Italian or Spanish. "Oh," he answered vaguely, the vacant expression on his face indicating that he was stuck for a phrase. "Italian. It's my first language." Margaret was stunned. "Really? I didn't know you spoke Italian."  
  
"Sto parlando soltanto inglese da quando ero 11," he commented, still staring blankly into space. Margaret gave him a blank look, until she remembered he couldn't see it. "What's that mean?" she asked. "I've only been speaking English since I was 11," he translated. She stared down at the paper she held. "So what does all this mean?" she questioned, shaking the paper so he would know what she was talking about. He sighed. "It loses a lot in translation, Margaret. Read it to me - or try to read it." She stumbled over some of the words, but she spoke French, and the two languages were similar.  
  
/La Nerezza Lo Circonda/  
  
"That's the title, "The Darkness Surrounds Me." Margaret raised an eyebrow at yet another morbid, depression causing poem, but continued reading.  
  
/Sto facendo scorrere. Non può interferirsi, non può ottenere una presa. La nerezza lo circonda, E lo conosco sto andando slittare/  
  
"I'm sliding. Can't catch myself, can't get a grip. The darkness surrounds me, And I know I'm going to slip."  
  
He recited, face expressionless as he effortlessly translated the words.  
  
/Tiri della mano con l'oscurità, E lo mantiene dal cadere. E come sto salvando Sento la vostra voce chiamata/  
  
"A hand shoots through the dark, And keeps me from falling, And as I'm being rescued, I hear your voice calling."  
  
Margaret glanced up quickly, staring into the blank eyes of the young man who sat not a foot away. This poem was taking a turn for the better.  
  
/Lo avete conservato dalla nerezza, La nerezza e la mia mente. Con voi mi conosco ancora. In voi amore allineare troverò./  
  
"You saved me from the darkness, The darkness and my mind, With you I know myself again, In you true love I'll find."  
  
His voice faltered on the last line, and a hand reached out, seeking and finding her cheek. He stroked it gently. "Is..is that me, Hawk?" He nodded. "You've saved me, Margaret. Saved me from everything. And I love you." She gasped, her heart racing with the thought of being with the man she realized she loved. "I love you too, Benjamin Franklin Pierce." She place a hand on either side of his face, guiding his lips to meet hers. Eventually, they fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms.  
  
Hours later, Hawkeye opened his eyes, expecting to see the white blankness he had seen for so long. But that was not the sight that met his eyes. He saw the dingy olive - drab of Post - Op, the vibrant blue of the sky outside, and the pure beauty of the world. He never imagined hell could look so perfect.  
  
He turned his gaze on the blonde who lay next to him. Margaret stirred, opening her own eyes, meeting Hawkeye's gaze. His face was exultant, and his eyes - those bright blue orbs had once again the joy of sight. "Hawkeye?" she exclaimed. He nodded. "I can see. And may I add, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Margaret smiled, kissing him softly. "You may."  
  
They got up, Hawkeye nearly running for the door. He collided with BJ as they headed opposite directions. "Maledizione," he muttered - obviously an Italian swear word - , watching BJ's jaw drop. "Hawk?" He nodded. "Yes, I can see. Watch this." Plucking Margaret's pen from her jacket, he grabbed a piece of paper from the desk, scrawled something on it, and taped it to his shirt. BJ and Margaret read it, laughing. "Yes, I can see. Thank You."  
  
Slinging an arm around his friend and his beloved, he pushed through the doors. "Let's go outside," he ordered. "For the first time in my life, I want to see that compound." The three friends walked out into the world, the sunshine giving hope, hope that soon the madness would end.  
  
***TBC***  
  
Thanks for everything, people. Sorry about the Italian, it didn't quite translate properly, so if you check it, it could be wrong. I had to put it in, I find the thought of Hawkeye speaking Italian extremely sexy. Please review! 


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